


Drive! Just Fucking Drive!

by screengeekdiaries



Category: Supernatural
Genre: April Fools' Day, Castiel and Cats, Castiel and Dean in Love, Castiel-centric, Cats, Cop!Dean, Cute, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Easter, Fluff, Jail, Kittens, M/M, Mother's Day, Mothering Sunday, National Holidays, Prison, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Destiel, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:12:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screengeekdiaries/pseuds/screengeekdiaries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel ends up spending Valentine's Day a little differently this year. Not so much flowers and chocolates, more cops and kittens really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Valentine's Day

Cas didn’t usually have plans on Valentine’s Day. Not romantic ones anyway; they were mostly filled with school work, reading, and ferrying his older brother’s various dates in (and sometimes out) of the house. 

He definitely never pictured spending it running away from the cops.

But that’s exactly how he was spending this particular February 14th; running through the streets being chased by a wail of sirens. Dodging pedestrians, he dived through the nearest alleyway, hoping to shake their tail as he scaled a dumpster to vault over the fenced partition. The cars may not have been able to fit down the narrow passage, but the cops that drove them sure could. Lungs burning, he forced himself to push on, to drop the last meter and run as the cops closed in on him. He almost fell out into the street, frantically using his remaining seconds to scope his escape as they tackled the fence.

Compared to the previous street, this one was practically the Mary Celeste; a small handful of couples were idly wandering the pavements, enjoying the watery sun and bracing wind that February had to offer. He held his coat gently around him. The storefronts seemed to be made up of little cafes and boutiques, quaint and quiet and of no use to Castiel in his given situation. His stomach growled as the smell of fresh bread wafted past. His breath caught in his chest. Shouts and the clinks of metal fences rushed from behind him.

He needed an out. And he needed it now!

A sleek black car caught his eye, glinting at him from across the street. All chrome and finned fenders, it was clearly the pride and joy of owner, who must’ve taken real good care to keep her in such good condition. But that wasn't of import right now – right now all Cas was interested in was the driver, and the seemingly empty back seat...

“Drive! Just fucking drive!” 

The guy jumped about a foot in the air as Castiel leaped into the back seat. Whether through shock or instinct he put pedal to the metal, car roaring into action as they sped down the street. Castiel just about remembered to pull the door closed in time.

No one said anything for a good 30 seconds. Dual heavy breathing filled the air as Cas lay across the back bench, rising only to check no one was following them. Fresh bread and cold air had been replaced by stale coffee and warm leather, an oddly comforting combination that somehow began to calm down his rapid heartrate. It was only when they hit the third block that the driver remembered to speak.

“Hey buddy, what the hell? Gave me a frigging heart attack.” He huffed, watching his surprise passenger in the rear view mirror. Two saucer eyes and a mess of dark hair stared back.

“My apologies sir” Cas rasped back, sitting up and straightening his coat. “But I can assure you this was of the upmost importance.”

“Of course it was. It’s not every day I get people jumping into my back seat – willingly I mean” The guy quirked a smile at his own in-joke, coughing it clear when Castiel only squinted back in confusion. “So what you hiding from? Crazy ex? Tinder date gone wrong?”

“Police. They’ve been chasing me for five blocks.” 

The driver did a double take at that, sure that he misheard. The guy had said it so casually! Plus, he didn't look like the bad boy type, more like a ruffled librarian on a business trip. A cute one at that. What on God’s green earth could he have possibly done?

“So what, am I your getaway driver? I came out to get pie, not become an accessory.” Now Cas was the one to double take. The driver, with his leather jacket and sandy blond hair, did not seem overly perturbed at unwittingly harbouring a fugitive. In fact, judging by the creased round his eyes, he seemed to find the whole situation... amusing. 

Cas didn’t know if it was lucky or worrying that he wasn’t being ejected from the car right about now.

“I’m very sorry to inconvenience you. If you’d like I can leave...”

“Nah, don’t sweat it man.” The man brushed off with a wave of his hand, still handling the car with ease. “Just made my day a little more interesting. So what did you do? Take candy from a baby?”

Cas lent forward, head floating between the headrests of the front seat. From his new vantage point he could learn more about his partner in crime - the litter of used coffee cups gracing the side seat, the beat up family photo clipped to the sun visor above him, the freckles ghosting his cheeks, slipping into the whorls of his pink tinged ears, trailing down underneath the collar of his jacket...

“I’m not entirely sure.” He answered eventually. “One minute I was at this old warehouse, holding open a door for my brother...”

“Which warehouse was this?”

“Not sure, the one off 2nd street I think? Anyway, then there were sirens everywhere, Gabe was telling me to run...”

“Gabe?”

“My brother.” Cas squinted at the driver inquisitively. He sure asked a lot of questions. “So Gabe comes running out, holding something, yelling at me to run, and gives me this.”

Dean turned slightly, trying to see what his passenger was rummaging in his coat for. He swore as he swerved the pigeon that he missed, and settled with watching the guy from the comfort of his mirror. By the time he next flicked his eyes up to meet him, he was faced with a guy in his mid twenties smiling brilliantly, holding the tiniest, fluffiest, mewling kitten he had ever seen.

And fuck if it wasn't the most ridiculously adorable thing he’d ever laid his eyes on. 

“You stole a cat?!” He barked in surprise.

“Apparently they were testing perfumes on them, what with the increase in sales around Valentine’s day. I couldn't leave him!” Cas implored, baby blues sparkling back at him, the tiny bundle of ginger fluff curled up next to his cheek. The image, against his better judgement, sent his heart into belly flops.

“I’m sure you couldn't buddy.” He smiled back. Castiel, content that he wasn't going to send him to jail, sighed and relaxed against the back seat. Only the sound of mewls and hidden sneezes broke the comfortable silence between them.

The driver continued on a couple more blocks. Once they were both sure that they’d shaken the fuzz, he pulled up next to the curb, the car purring steadily as it waited. Castiel got out, kitten tucked carefully into the crook of his arm, and peered in through the driver’s side window.

“I can’t thank you enough for all your help today, Mr - ?”

“Winchester. Dean Winchester.” The driver grinned, holding a hand out for the man to shake. 

“Dean.” Castiel replied, testing the name on his tongue. Shivers ran through Dean’s hand as he took it.

“Anytime man! I’ll look out for you on _America’s Most Wanted_.”

Castiel smiled back, ducking his head as his cheeks flushed. Dean’s heart went into flip flop mode again.

“Happy Valentine’s Day” He whispered, before strolling off down the street. Dean watched till he turned the corner, coat tails floating behind him like some goddamn superhero. Eventually he pulled out, shaking his head at the strangeness of the day. He was just beginning his loop back to the start when a call came in.

“Dude, where’d you go? I thought you wanted this pie?” His brothers’ voice crackled through the speakerphone.

“Sorry Sammy, something came up. Tell you all about it when I get there.”

Sam huffed out a laugh, sounding for all the world like he was jogging. “No bother, I’ll meet you at the precinct. Gotta get back with Sarge’s donuts ‘pronto’.”

“Roger that, over and out!” Dean smiled. Then, placing his cherry light on the roof of his car, he put pedal to the metal to race his brother back to work.


	2. Mother's Day

It was two in the afternoon when Sam found Dean banging his head softly against the flat of his desk. Much like his car, it was covered in clusters of paperwork he’d yet to finish and stale coffee cups. And doughnuts too. Not that Dean would let them anywhere near his car. Too powdery. He wasn't an _animal_.

“Hey Dean, cover for me would ya?”

Dean lifted himself, bleary eyed, red mark stamped across his forehead. Blinking, he focused in on his brother, who was lurking shiftily by his desk like some big, lurking Sasquatch.

He chuckled internally. _Nice one Winchester_.

“Why?” he huffed, scrubbing listlessly at his face, hoping to wake up what the fifth coffee couldn't.

“Cos it’s Mother’s Day tomorrow and I haven’t got mom a present yet.”

Dean froze, one hand lingering around his chin. _Shit! Shit shit crap bugger bollocks!_ Blanching, his gaze slowly rolled to the calendar in front of him. _It’s Mother’s Day tomorrow??_

“I know I’m awful, but we've been swamped here and I kept meaning to get something but the late hours meant the shops were closed and -” Sam, giant, law abiding, can-take-down-three-crooks-at-once Sam had regressed to his seven year old self before his very eyes, begging his big brother not to tell on him to mom. Dean withheld a smirk; he was never one to miss an opportunity when it presented itself.

“Gee, I don’t know Sammy. I’ve got sooo much paperwork to do...”

“Cover my round down in Holding and I’ll finish it for your!” Sam begged, getting antsy as he glanced at the bullpen clock.

“You got yourself a deal!” Dean crowed, scrambling away from his desk. “But you owe me one, you hear? A big one. Preferably with cream.”

Sam wrinkled his nose, trying not to imagine what Dean was suggesting; knowing him, it could be anything from pies to Playboy. Nonetheless, he sighed in relief, clapping a meaty paw on his big brothers shoulder. With a “Thanks Dean!” thrown his way, Sam bounded out the station like an overgrown puppy, Dean making a mental note to do the same as soon as he possibly could.

*~*~*

Whistling as he worked his way down the hall, Dean mulled over what to get for his mom. It probably wasn't the most appropriate time to be thinking of her, given that he was supposed to be ensuring all this morning’s criminals were still safely ensconced in their cells, but Dean had gotten rather good at multitasking over the years. Besides, maybe one of these layabouts might inspire some fantastic gift idea he hadn't thought of yet...

_Crowley, Fergus. Raided a liquor store._

Then again, perhaps not.

He shut the hatch between himself and the portly man, blocking the smile and the fingers wiggling his way. Ticking his file, Dean soldiered on, boots squeaking against the lino as he did so.

_Harvelle, Joanne. GBH. ___

__Dean spotted the girl sitting restlessly against her cot, all blonde and bored and looking none the worse for her ordeal with the three bikers she took down. He grinned as he closed her hatch, hoping she got let off with only a warning; from the looks of the blokes in the following cells, they fully deserved the ass whooping they got._ _

__Bright lights off of blonde hair drew his mind back to his mother as he started towards the holding pen. _Perhaps sunflowers?_ He mused, imagining them perched on her windowsill. _Or new paints? She’s always saying how much she wants to get back into it agai-__ _

__“Dean?”_ _

__Dean came to a halt in the hallway, ‘Highway to Hell’ dying on his lips. He’d completely missed the pen. Turning back, his eyes fell on the register, trying to place where he knew that voice._ _

__Only two people were in the pen that day, but Dean could pick out that face even if there were hundreds._ _

___Novak, Castiel._ _ _

__“I would have picked a cops car to jump into, wouldn't I?” Cas quipped through the bars, slowly eyeing the boots, the jacket, the badge glinting in the fluorescent light. Dean, for his sake, had the grace to look abashed, rubbing palm against neck as he shuffled forward._ _

__“Hey man, I was off duty. I wouldn't have brought you in even if you paid me.”_ _

__Cas squinted._ _

__“But I do pay you, don’t I? As a tax paying member of society I mean...”_ _

__“Alright alright!” Dean huffed, failing to keep the amusement out of his voice. The man behind bars, whilst rumple haired and looking like he’d slept in his clothes, appeared proud at his attempted joke. All he needed was an orange ball of fluff in his hands and Dean might have just _melted.__ _

__“So, what you in for? Did my boys catch you smuggling dalmatians from Cruella de Vils house or something?”_ _

__Cas blushed, eyes cast down towards his shoes._ _

__“Doesn't it say on your clipboard?”_ _

__“Yeah” Dean replied, grinning wolfishly through the bars “but I wanna hear it from you!”_ _

__Cas sighed, staring imploringly at Dean – _Officer Winchester_ – but from the glint in his eyes and the way he lent roguishly against the bars, he didn't look like he was going anywhere._ _

__And neither, Cas noting to his detriment, was he._ _

__“I was looking for a present for my mother. I hadn't realised Mother’s Day was tomorrow, so out of guilt I was considering purchasing some jewellery -”_ _

__“Hold up, you stole from a jewellery store?!” Dean butted in, looking half shocked and (though it was highly unprofessional) half impressed. Cas quelled that look with an unamused glare._ _

__“Dean, please.”_ _

__“My apologies. Continue.”_ _

__“As I was saying, I’d just picked up this necklace I thought she might like – silver, diamond set, way out of my price range – when a gentleman picked up my bag of groceries instead of his and walked out of the shop. Simba’s specialist food was in there, and I couldn't afford to get any more, so I gave chase. Whilst still holding the necklace.” Cas paused, wincing at the memory. Or at the pain it brought back to his arm._ _

__“The store security guard tackled me to the ground before I got anywhere near the door, and wouldn't believe me when I tried to explain about the hypo-allergenic feast flakes. So... here I am!” He finished, flourishing his hands at the walls around him. Dean stood there, gaping, trying to let the story sink in._ _

__“Who the hell is Simba?” Dean blurted out eventually. Cas’s questioning look radiating out from between the bars. _Out of everything I've just told you, that’s the thing you’re wondering about??__ _

__“My cat, Dean. The one you met in the car?”_ _

__“Ah, right.” He recalled. _The one who furballed Baby so bad I was sneezing for a week._ “And the expensive cat chow...?”_ _

__“I think it’s a result of him being tested on for so long. He’s allergic to most normal brands of cat food.” Cas noted sadly. His brow furrowed. “I hope he’s alright.”_ _

__“He’ll be fine Cas, it’s you I’m worried about. That cat’s gonna get you into trouble one of these days!” Dean may have been joking for his expense, but Cas could still feel the genuine concern filtering through, warming him to the core. He smiled. Dean felt his stomach flip flop._ _

__“That’s very gracious of you, Dean. But he’s still quite little, and he’s never been in the flat so long without me before...”_ _

__Both Cas and Dean jumped as a door slammed. Remembering he was supposed to be on duty, Dean straightened, throwing his sternest, most professional look in Castiels direction._ _

__“I’ll see how much longer you’re supposed to be held for. In the mean time, settle down Mr Novak!” he barked, before briskly marching out of holding. But instead of heading back to his desk, he went straight for the exit, spotting his brother entering the foyer as he did so._ _

__“Hey Sammy! About that favour you owe me...”_ _

__*~*~*_ _

___Cas wasn't kidding when he said that this cat food was expensive._ _ _

__After spending the best part of an hour trying to track down this particular brand of cat chow - no thanks to the flirty sales rep at 7/11 - Dean wrestled the bag up to Castiel’s flat (which he totally didn't pay Bradbury to hack into his records for), inserted the key (which he totally didn't steal from the evidence lockup) and let himself in. Sam was only gonna be able to cover him for another half hour, so he had to be in and out as quickly as possible if he wanted to avoid pulling double shifts next weekend. If he was lucky, he may even have time to pick up a Mother’s Day present..._ _

__Still, it didn't stop Dean having a good old nose round Cas’s pad. Small as it was, the whole place had that kind of spacious feel; possibly, Dean concluded, due to the considerable lack of furniture it contained. A pokey looking bed, some beanbags and an upturned crate (complete with stoneage TV) pretty much made up Castiels belongings. As Dean set the bag down in the kitchen (two plates, two cups, a bowl and a handful of cutlery) he wondered why a man, who could obviously afford to rent this place and buy his mother expensive gifts, would chose to live as if he were a destitute college kid. _Maybe he really was trying to steal that necklace, and I've been royally conned?__ _

__Then he met the cat. And everything was explained._ _

__It stood just behind him, making Dean jump so hard he squeaked, early dropping the goddamn cat food in the process. It looked up at Dean, tiny tail standing like a bottle brush as it swished gently behind him. Golden eyes searched the new comer questioningly, _not unlike its owner_ Dean mused, it’s diminutive size not yet caught up with the sheer volume that was its luminescently orange fur. Half of which was pushed up round its neck thanks to the jumper it appeared to be wearing._ _

__Of all the ways he pictured his day going, Dean didn't expect to be trapped in a stranger’s kitchen by a tiny, mewling, strangely well dressed lion._ _

___Ah. So this must be Simba._ _ _

__Dean’s nose tickled like a slowly brewing wildfire. He sneezed. Instead of scarpering at the loud noise like he thought, the cat tippy toed towards the officer, looking beseechingly up at the food in his hand._ _

__“Mew!”_ _

__“Ah, shit, no! Shoo – _achoo_ – shoo cat shoo!”_ _

__Undeterred, Simba advanced, mewling his tiny little head off._ _

__“Argh! Gimme a – _achoo_ – goddamn second here cat!” Dean uttered through sneezes, trying to wrestle open the bag as quickly as possible. Simba, seemingly uncaring as to his affect upon the stranger, wound himself around Dean’s ankles, lovingly rubbing his head against his new friends leg. Dean could feel the purring (and the suspecting hives) spreading across his skin._ _

__With a dexterity he didn't know he possessed, Dean tried pushing away the cat with his foot whilst simultaneously trying to pour the cat food into the bowl; a balancing act that quickly dissolved into mayhem when he discovered that he couldn't focus on the two jobs at once. Concentrating on not accidentally maiming the cat led to Dean covering the counter top with stray food, and not ruining Cas’s kitchen led to the wily kitten breaking free from his boot barrier. In the end Dean settled on simply leaving the kitchen, pouring food into the bowl as he ran through the flat, Simba scampering along behind him._ _

__To his dying day, Dean will never ever admit he was chased by a kitten._ _

__Once the bowl was full (around the third lap of the living room) he dropped it on the floor, retreating to a beanbag as Simba skittered to a halt. Dean relaxed, wheezy-breathing his heart back to normal as the kitten dived head first into his food, before taking the chance to scope the place out._ _

__What Cas lacked in personal belongings he certainly made up for in the cats; there was a cluster of pink, spangly and feathery toys littered around the floor (Dean winced, hoping he hadn't broken the ones he’d tripped over), some form of multi levelled climbing thing propped up in the corner. Even the cat bed, all plush and velvet and about ten times the size of the cat itself, looked more comfortable than the mattress bed Cas owned for himself._ _

__The man, Dean concluded, was a crazy cat lady. A crazy cat _mom!__ _

__Dean was so distracted by Castiels apparent love for his furry baby that he didn't notice it crawl into his lap. A sneeze brought Dean’s attention back to the fluffball, perched happily on his knee, tiny tongue licking the ruminants of food off its face. Dean levelled his best interrogation face its way, eyebrows furrowing together menacingly. _You are not cute. You are a small, furry menace to my sinuses. Once I am sure you’re not gonna die I’m out of here...__ _

__But Simba, the little rascal, had other ideas. He rather liked this new human, and disliked being left alone for so long. So ignoring Dean’s mutterings of “Don’t you dare” he yawned, curled his full, purring belly up in Dean’s lap, and simply fell asleep._ _

___Fuck. This may take a while._ _ _

__*~*~*_ _

__Dean sauntered back into the precinct about an hour later than he intended, just in time to see Castiel finishing up his release papers. A man – short, blond, suited and booted – stood by his side, cajoling a solemn Castiel into hurrying up with a merry laugh. Which was strange, considering that out of the two he appeared to be the legal aid._ _

__Nonetheless, Dean strode up to the recently released, wrestling his grin into a more serious grimace._ _

__“The criminal lifestyle doesn’t suit you, Novak. Let’s hope we don’t see you back in here again.” He warned, giving Cas a severe look as he blocked his exit. Cas squinted back, thoroughly confused by Dean’s telling off, till the officer dropped his facade with a smile and a wink. Cas relaxed, smiling back._ _

__Leaning in, Dean slipped Castiel’s key back into his pocket._ _

__“Happy Mother’s Day Cas. That’s one fine furry baby you got there.” He whispered, deftly walking away before Cas blew his cover. And he almost succeeded too, before Sammy showed up._ _

__“Dean , where the hell have you... Why are you covered in cat hair?!”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely commenter who asked for a follow up - here you go my darling!
> 
> Comment and kudos if you'd like to see more Destiel adventures with Simba, or come find me and request SPN fics at ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com ~ Elle x


	3. April Fools Day and Easter

_There are too many holidays this time of year_ Dean thought to himself as he trudged up one of Chicago’s many shopping districts, turning the collar of his jacket as the burgeoning warmth of spring was washed aside by a bitter wind. Tides of chocolate eggs and florescent bunnies stared down at him from shop windows as he passed – how the hell had he forgotten that it was Easter this weekend?

He blamed it on his overly manic week; April Fool’s Day was up there with Halloween for being the worst day of the year on a policeman’s calendar. Dean could remember loving April 1st as a child; cling film on the toilet seat, clowns in Sammy’s bedroom, food colouring in the milk, he did it all. His parents had to put a pranking ban in place after Sam got old enough to prank him back. To this day Dean couldn't look at glitter without feeling a little bit itchy.

But instead his day had been spent fielding the inevitable maelstrom of phone calls and call outs, trying to weed out the phoney from the genuine - In total he got five I.P Freely’s, two Seymour Butts, and at least half a dozen “Hello, I’d like to order a pizza’s”. The worst had to be when some drunk little shits pelted him with doughnuts as he was leaving the precinct, the only upside being that they were too pissed to run away and Dean managed to confiscate the remaining box once he had them shoved into lockup. 

Hey, it saved him a trip to the bakery in the end.

Dean sighed, tugging a shivering hand from his pocket to read the address scrawled across it, thanking every deity under the sun that his Mom called to remind him about Sunday roast. Usually he’d resent her assumptions that he was forgetful, that he was a goddamn grown man who could remember his own damn dates, but on this occasion she’d been right on the money. Even Sam had a bitchy smirk on his face as he Google searched for a half decent chocolate shop within a mile radius of the precinct.

“It’s like she knows you or something.”

“Shut up Sasquatch and gimme my coordinates!”

And here he now was, half an hour later, gaze shifting between the ink on his palm and the shop before him, wondering if Sam was pulling some sort of delayed April Fool’s prank on him. The store front looked decidedly scuzzy, and not in the purposely designed way that was considered ‘fashionable’ and littered the neighbourhood. Nope, this was more the sleazy kind, the kind that harboured trenchcoat wearing men and older couples looking to spice up their sex life. Dean glanced suspiciously at the sign. ‘Angel Cake’. Well that didn't help matters.

Still, he really needed to get chocolate that didn't look petrol store bought (his Mom was getting pretty good at telling the difference), and the produce in the window didn't look phallic... he groaned dejectedly and stepped towards the door, making a mental note to kill Sammy first chance he got.

A tiny bell tinkled, loving warmth shooing the wayward chill away from Dean’s skin. A little moan fell from his lips as it wrapped around him, flapping open his coat to let the heat hug closer. He breathed in deep, thankful that the delicious, velvet ooze of chocolate filled his nostrils instead of sterile latex.

“Well, I’m glad to see you like my produce.” A gravelly voice wandered over to him, amusement buried deep in its core. Dean peeked an eye open, gaze falling on the dark haired man perched behind the counter. The other eye dropped in shock as recognition slapped him upside the head. There was no mistaking that shade of blue.

“I’ve got to say Dean, this has to be the least strange way we’ve bumped into each other. We’re slipping” Cas smiled gummily, sending Dean’s stomach into flip-mode. He grinned back in return, striding closer and attempting to hold back the blush creeping across his cheeks, blaming the temperature change as he went.

“Well well well, I never pictured America’s Most Wanted owning a chocolate shop. Can’t decide which job is sexier” Mentally face palming as that last line slipped out, Dean tried to play through the embarrassment flooding his body. To his surprise, Cas giggled; a beautiful melody that Dean decided he really needed to hear again. 

“Then I am saddened to say that I don’t own this place. That title belongs to my brother.” Cas replied, arm sweeping the breadth of the interior. Dean’s eyes followed in its wake, taking in the glass cabinets of delicate truffles, caramels and cakes, elegantly displayed against a wall that mildly resembled the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

“And does your brother know that from the outside this place looks like a -”

“- porn shop? Yes, he thought it would be funny to buy an X-rated store and convert it.” A grim smile lined his face as Dean fought not to laugh. He had to ask.

“And have any of the customers...?”

“Yes Dean, I have had to explain to several confused gentlemen that we do not stock the latest issue of _Busty Asian Beauties_.”

Cas just stood there patiently as the unavoidable tide of laughter took over Dean, body bent double as his hands held his sides together. How the man could still look gorgeous whilst bright red and eyes streaming with tears was a miracle in itself, but it was a sight that Cas couldn't tear his eyes away from. Just the way Dean’s eyes crinkled at the corners caught the breath in his chest.  
“Yes yes, laugh it up Dean. If you met my brother you would understand.” The mirth slowly began to patter into silence. It wasn't until Dean successfully managed to right himself that Cas remembered.

“Actually, you already have! Briefly, at least. He bailed me from my last stint in your holding cell.”

Dean wracked his brain, the image of swept blonde hair and a suit swimming into focus.

“Wait, the _lawyer?_ Your brother is Gabe _Novak_?? As in Gabe Novak, best damn lawyer in the state?!” Dean cried, stunned. Cas simply nodded, seemingly nonplussed. For some reason, Dean couldn't get the information to sink in. It took him a moment to continue.

“Why does Gabe Novak, best damn lawyer in the state, most loaded man ever to flirt with my brother, need to own _a chocolate shop_?”

“Because he gets bored.” Cas shrugged nonchalantly. Dean just stared, mouth flapping open; he needed a little bit more explanation than that!

“Gabe, despite his hectic schedule, gets bored very easily. And when he’s bored he likes to flirt – apologies to your brother for that, by the way – or take up little projects, the latest one being this shop. ‘Real estate investment’ he calls it...” Cas did the quotation marks and everything, a move that Dean found completely endearing. 

“... but really, my brother just likes to have his fingers in as many pies as possible.” He finished, seemingly tickled by something. Dean looked on curiously.

“What is it?” 

“Nothing, it’s just... Gabe would appreciate my turn of phrase.”

They settled into silence, as warm and comfortable as the air around them. Gazes gently held, with nothing but the sturdy wooden counter between them. It felt strong beneath Deans splayed fingers, images of Cas spread across its varnished top as Dean rocked, moaned, thrusted against him...

Dean choked, swiftly shaking the images from his mind.

“So, errr... is there anything your brother can’t do?” Dean said a little too quickly, desperately hoping Cas wasn't a mind reader. He didn't expect the scowl that coasted over Castiel’s face.

“Learn when enough is enough. You’re lucky we were even open today; it’s taken nearly three days to clean up his April Fool’s shenanigans. Naomi nearly quit twice.”

“So between the confused customers and the unexpected closing times, how has this place not folded yet?”

“Because thankfully Gabe pays for everything he eats. Technically, he is our best customer.” Cas softened, forehead smoothing under Dean’s gentle ribbing. He suddenly started, bolting upright and reaching for something behind the counter.

“That reminds me, you actually came in for something! If your determined entrance was anything to go by.” He pulled out a box, all subtle silver detail and elegant bow. “I’m guessing something Easter related? Given the time of year – please Dean, it’s on me!” Cas waved away as Dean pulled out his wallet.

“Cas, the gesture’s nice and all, but this place will close if you turn money away from actual paying customers. Where will I bump into you again if that happens?” Dean grinned, slapping his dollars down on the counter. Cas ducked his head, bed head hair hiding the rising blush. It took all Dean’s willpower not to run his hands through its dark, fluffy depths.

“Well,” Cas whispered, teasingly glancing up through thick, luscious lashes “there’s always the holding cell...”

A streak of ginger and paws ran between their outstretched hands. They jumped, both turning as the fur and knit jumper combo (a striking shade of yellow this time) jumped lightly from worktop to cabinet, tail swishing triumphantly as it held two battered bills in its mouth. 

“Seriously, that cat’s gonna get you into trouble one of these days!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the Simba-verse continues! If I can keep it up I'm hoping to do one of these for every holiday until New Years... 
> 
> Comment and kudos if you'd like me to continue on these Destiel adventures (or even if you just enjoyed this fic)! And come find me at ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com to request your own SPN fics! ~ Elle x

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this wonderful story.](http://quietzombiegirl.tumblr.com/post/88282270117/everyones-grandparents-seem-to-have-really-cute)
> 
> Come find me at ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com ~ Elle x


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